


The Doom of Mandos

by MayGlenn



Series: May's February Ficlet Challenge 2019 [3]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Feanorian Apologism, Gen, Happy Ending, PWP - Politics Without Porn, Sibling Bonding, Through Being Terrible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17654837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayGlenn/pseuds/MayGlenn
Summary: Celegorm set his goblet down, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “So this is the Doom of Mandos, eh? Giving the eight of us powers that rival Mairon’s, so we can get whatever we want?”Curufin hummed. “Maybe it’s like the Gift of Men. Sounds nice; actually shitty. Only for us it sounds bad, but is actually a good thing.”





	The Doom of Mandos

Celegorm set his goblet down, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “So this is the Doom of Mandos, eh? Giving the eight of us powers that rival Mairon’s, so we can get whatever we want?”

Curufin hummed. “Maybe it’s like the Gift of Men. Sounds nice; actually shitty. Only for us it sounds bad, but is actually a good thing.”  

The siege against Morgoth won, Fëanor and his sons now possessed the three silmarils to which their Oath bound them. The only problem with this situation was that they now needed to survive on the blood of the living. Curufin didn’t like the taste, like his father, though, also like his father, he did like the power it afforded him.

Still, he put down his goblet with a frown.

“Come now, it’s fresh. I just hunted that stag today!” Celegorm complained. He never liked it when Curufin didn’t like his cooking, and Curufin was a notoriously picky eater.

“I know.”

Celegorm grinned, trying to rile his brother up. “We could always go back to my plan of raising Petty-Dwarves...”

“That’s racist, Tyelko. Better not let Carnistir or Nelyo catch you talking like that.”

Celegorm leaned back and quaffed his blood. “They could _try_. I was just joking, anyways. They won’t let me keep Men for food, either… Kidding!”

They fall silent, and Celegorm reaches down to scratch behind the ears of his his huge hound, Huan, who is giving him a very unimpressed look.

“Oh, don’t you start,” Celegorm told him. He had a very judgy dog.

Curufin picked up his goblet to try again. What did he have to complain about, really? His father and all his brothers were alive and well, and all his extended family—even the ones he didn’t like—were, too, and they were spreading out all over Beleriand. “Oh!” This would cheer himself up, seeing his brother’s reaction: “I received a letter from that Andreth woman, the one who’s dating Aegnor?”

“Whoever she is, she’s too good for him, but go on.”

“Well, she didn’t want to live a life of undeath, you know, if she wasn’t sure Aegnor would still love her. So apparently she talked our offer over with him.”

Celegorm grinned wickedly. Most of their extended relatives were still on uneasy terms with them, if not for the issue of oaths (which only bothered them because they were busybodies) and kinslaying (all the Alqualondians had already been brought back to life after that unfortunate misunderstanding, so what was the big deal?), then for the burned ships and grinding ice (which, okay, they had _apologized_ for, after they all grew fangs and bat wings and visited unholy levels of smackdown to Morgoth’s doorstep so the rest of Arda didn’t have to, got the silmarils back, and were all in a much more reasonable mood). Any chance they had to rub it in delighted him. “Go on.”

“They had a _great_ row, which she downplays in the letter, but which I like to _imagine_ was a great row, but the short of it is that they’re coming.”

“What, here?” Celegorm said, sitting up.

“Well, I’m amazing, but I can’t exactly turn a woman into a vampire at distance.”

“Oh, delightful. It’ll be good to see old Aiko again. Maybe I can convince him to go hunting when he’s here, like old times.”

Curufin stood up to mix his blood with a clear liquor from a glass decanter, and he did the same for Celegorm. “Why don’t you invite Írissë and her new boyfriend?”

“Ugh, he’s trash.”

“You’re being racist again. According to you, the only available dating options here are ‘trash’ or someone you’re blood-related to.”

Celegorm snorted. “Fair cop. Though that doesn’t stop our Nelyo, right?”

They both laughed.

“Now that you mention it, we should invite Findekáno, too,” Curufin offered. Fingon had always been an important member of their hunting band back in Aman, and he was good at making sure everyone else got along.

“Ugh, then Nelyo really will show up.”

“Vampirism did nothing to tamp down the fires of love there?”

“Finno’s kinky like that, I’m sure it’s only improved their relationship,” Celegorm said, and they burst out laughing, giggling like children, as the alcohol, which really was poison to them in their vampiric forms, took effect almost immediately.

“Oh! Oh, I also received a letter from Nelyo,” Curufin said, drinking his blood cocktail easily now. “You’re going to love this. It’s about ‘King’ Thingol!”

“Oh, boy.”

“He sent his daughter’s suitor after one of the silmarils before he’d grant the Man her hand in marriage.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“We’re the bad guys again?” Celegorm was now on the floor with his dog. “Big fucking surprise.”

“And there’s more! Father just _gave_ a silmaril to this fellow! Just outright loaned it to him!”

Celegorm choked on the next mouthful of blood, giving him a macabre appearance, but Huan readily lapped it up from his face. “Our father. Fëanáro Curufinwë, the Spirit of Fire, Vampire King of Beleriand, gave one of his prized silmarils to some young _Man_?”

“Well, _loaned_ it, of course,” Curufin said. “And mostly to piss off Thingol, I’m sure. Young lad’s one of Bëor’s house, so, you know, family rumor mill, Findaráto talks to Findekano, Finno sweet-talks Nelyo—”

“Nelyafinwë did _not_ put that in his letter.”

“Of course not, I’m editorializing. Nelyo runs it by atar, who is soon brought round to the mischief this can create. So this young Man is going to just waltz in there and present a silmaril, a gift on loan to the court of Menegroth from the High King.”

“Hope he chokes on it. Anyone stupid enough to barter his daughter for a gemstone is an idiot. And I swore an Oath on one!”

“Of course. It’s not like we couldn’t get it _back_ if atar wanted it and Thingol tried to keep it.”

“I hope he tries to keep it, I could use a good fight.” Celegorm grinned wickedly, and then spluttered and pushed Huan away as he tried to lick into his mouth.

Curufin laid his head on the table, sleepy-drunk now. “You know, we should offer to bite this lad, too. Turn him into a vampire so he and Thingol’s daughter have a happy ending. Use our Curse for good.”

“That sounds like we’re setting a terrible precedent, but I am _always_ ready to make terrible decisions with you, Curvo.”

“Love you, too, big brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Third in the February Ficlet Challenge of 2019, AKA, Look, I *Can* Write By Myself. The prompt was "AU: Vampires."


End file.
